


Story Gets Bigger Every Year

by aliassmith



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliassmith/pseuds/aliassmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The cavalry's arrived."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Story Gets Bigger Every Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tielan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/gifts).



1

At any other time, the raised voices echoing across the warehouse would immediately put Melinda on edge. Shouting during a mission like this means the target doesn't care whether or not they give away their location. Shouting means the opponent is cocky; confident in either their skill or their situation. In this case, shouting just means the asshole Melinda’s about to take down is reckless, conceited and more than a little dim-witted. 

Not her favorite type of challenge, but it’s been a slow week.

She makes her way toward the voices, pinpointing the guy who no doubt considers himself "in charge" in seconds. He’s the one waving the gun an inch from Maria Hill’s face where she’s crouched protectively over what looks to be an unconscious Agent Mete. Behind them, a row of haphazardly armed goons are keeping a careful eye on the four remaining S.H.I.E.L.D. agents Melinda’s been assigned to retrieve. 

“You all think you’re so invincible, don’t you?” the asshole waving the gun spits, “Playing dress up with your wannabe heroes. One word. One word to my men and not a single one of you goes home breathing. Should I do it, hmm? What do you think? What should I tell my men?”

Melinda steps forward, pressing the barrel of her gun tight against the monologuing bastard’s spine.

“Tell them the cavalry’s arrived.”

…

Maria snorts into her shot glass. “The cavalry's arrived? Seriously? No, I mean, sure. As far as dramatic entrances go, that's...certainly something. Really, I can't believe they didn't drop their guns on sight. You know. Because of all the laughing.”

“It was in the heat of battle. You’ve said worse.” Melinda sips at her own glass, her expression impossible to read behind the rim of froth lacing her beer.

“I never compared my clock choke to the mounted infantry.”

“Probably a good thing. I’ve seen your clock choke.”

If she expects an outraged argument from Maria (or at the very least a change of subject), she’s out of luck. “I just… The cavalry’s arrived.”

“We can drop this any time you like. Really. Feel free to talk about anything else.”

“Nope. This isn’t something you get to live down. Not tonight, not ever.”

“Goody.” Melinda downs the last of her beer and rises from the table to seek out another. “So glad I saved your life.”

2

“We need tequila,” comes a shout from across the room.

Maria lifts the half empty bottle and shakes it in the general direction of the voice. “We have tequila. We need rum.”

“We need vodka.” A croaky voice joins the discussion from somewhere near the couch. Possibly underneath it.

“We need a designated driver is what we need.”

As if on cue, Maria looks up from contemplating just how many shots she could get from what’s left of the tequila to see Melinda elbowing her way into the room carrying two bottles of something undoubtedly alcoholic in each hand.

“Cavalry's here!” three voices call at once.

“It’s barely 9 o’clock! How long ago did you all start drinking?” Melinda kicks at a stray foot blocking her path to the kitchen. "Lightweights."

3

They’re in Bangladesh, a surveillance mission that ended up a little more interactive than originally planned.

May’s taking gulps of water from the bottle some Level One handed her when she catches sight of Agent Carter approaching her.

“You’re good,” Carter says, slapping a hand down on her shoulder. “Let’s do this again sometime. Though I was thinking maybe with less explosions and more crash-mats next time.”

The Level One takes the water bottle back when May thrusts it towards him and turns to nod at Agent Carter. “Sounds like fun.”

“The Taskmaster... That was... And you just...” the Level One stutters out, staring wide-eyed at the smoking scene over Melinda's shoulder.

“Damn right she did. Don’t mess with the Cavalry.” Carter squeezes her shoulder and walks away.

4

There’s nothing they can do. Maria’s in the warehouse with other members of the team and Melinda isn’t leaving. Coulson’s there, but this is something she can only do by herself.

She goes in.

Things go bad.

She does what she can, brings back those who haven’t already been… those it’s not too late to save.

She gets Maria out. She doesn’t get Devon. Or Burkinshaw. She doesn’t get the girl, but she gets the bastards who started this. Her _worshippers_. She looks each one in the face and makes sure they remember hers.

“Cavalry’s here.” Maria whispers when Melinda pulls her arm across her shoulders, her voice wrecked.

Melinda doesn’t say not to call her that.

She doesn’t say a thing.

5

The helicarrier’s on fire. Not for the first time, but this isn’t like the others. There’s screaming now, and running. May’s been running but not fast enough, she runs past faces she knows— too still, not breathing, not moving— she feels like she’s running through quicksand, the weight of it sucking at her legs, pulling her down.

She makes it to the cells just in time to see the med team carrying a suited body back out the door.

Fury looks up at her and shakes his head.

She sees the blood on the wall, can’t look away and by the time she turns back Fury’s just a swirl of black leather disappearing around the corner.

She should move, keep running. There are others around, they could use a hand.

They need a cavalry.

May leans a palm against the wall and doesn’t move.

+1

“Is it true you used to train with Agent Morse?” Skye runs the tips of her fingers over the line of ammunition on the table in front of her.

Melinda raises an eyebrow as she loads the pistol they’ve got Skye practicing with today. “Morse? Do you even know who that is?”

“Do _you_?” Skye counters. She continues when Melinda’s only reply is a silent judgmental look. “I just want to know what’s real and what's just me getting messed with by the rest of the team.”

Melinda nods. “Best bet is to assume they’re messing with you. Always.”

Skye sighs, disappointed.

“And I didn’t train with Morse. She trained with me. You ever see her aú sem mao? It’s like looking in a mirror.”

“Really?” Skye’s eyes widen. 

Melinda widens her eyes in return.

“Messing with me. Right.”

Melinda turns away and lets herself smile a little before putting eight rounds in the target.

Once the echoing of the gun firing dies down, Melinda turns to see Maria Hill standing a few feet behind them. “Cavalry’s still got it,” she greets them.

Skye immediately bristles. “Don’t call her that.”

“Skye, this is Agent Hill. Despite her abysmal sense of humor she’s still your superior officer.” 

“But she—” Skye starts to protest but quickly shrugs when she catches the look Melinda sends her. “All right, fine. I’ll just take my earmuffs and my gun and go shoot some stuff.” She turns with her gun in hands and Melinda can’t stop herself from reaching out to position her arm low until the gun is pointed at the ground. Skye nods to the furthest line of targets. “Over there, I mean. In the corner. By myself. Where none of your top secret plans will be overheard by my subordinate ears.” She sloppily salutes Maria and walks away, the huffed _God_ clear to both Melinda and Maria’s ears.

“Let me guess,” Maria comes to stand by Melinda. “She’s Coulson’s favorite.”

“I wouldn’t say favorite.”

“No of course not, I’m sure he loves his rag tag little bunch of misfits equally.”

“He gives us candy when we’re good.”

“I wasn’t including you.”

“You should. I’m just as much a misfit as any of them.”

“Melinda—”

“Did you come here for something?”

“Drinks at the bar tonight. You—”

“Will not be attending.”

“They’ll ask why.”

“Tell them I’m washing my hair.”

“And if I ask?”

Melinda shrugs, loading a couple of rounds into her own pistol.

“Nicely?” Maria adds.

Melinda scoffs. “You?”

“I can do nicely.” Maria waits for her to finish loading then bumps her shoulder and grins. “Come with us.”

Melinda thinks, takes aim, fires. “On one condition.”

Maria raises and eyebrow like a question mark.

“The invitation extends to my team.” Melinda places her now empty gun on the table.

“You want to take a team of loner newbies drinking with agents, an Avenger and possibly the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“They’ll be terrified. It’ll be great.” Melinda offers half a smile.

“That’s so cruel.” Maria returns her grin. “You really have still got it.”

Melinda shrugs. “Take it or leave it. I really was going to wash my hair tonight. I can still revert to my original plans.”

…

They don't show until after the bar is full. Melinda holds up the two bottles of tequila in one hand and two of bourbon in the other and gets a cheer for her efforts. She sees Maria wanting to say it, eyes flicking to Skye then meeting her own with a knowing smirk instead.

Melinda smiles back. “Cavalry’s here.”

THE END.


End file.
